


Make Stars, Not Wars

by Scoby



Series: Decades of Reylo [2]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Academic Ben Solo, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Alternate Universe - Hippies, Body Hair, F/M, First Meetings, Layered Clothing, Meet-Cute, PhD Student Ben Solo, Polyamorous Rey (Star Wars), Recreational Drug Use, Summer, Typewriter BB-9E
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25363732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scoby/pseuds/Scoby
Summary: It is Summer of Love 1967. Ben Solo has trouble finishing his dissertation but gets unexpected help from Rey - a hippie with daisies in her hair and a passion for criticising economic growth and war.-----“Please?”“You’re doing those eyes again.”“What eyes?”“That made me give you my shirt. But let me tell you, that doesn’t always work.”“Why not?”“Because now I’ve really decided. I need to finish the writing and prepare for the defence.”
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Decades of Reylo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1877596
Comments: 1
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heads up: Rey is polyamorous with several Resistance characters in this fic, but the on-screen sexual content towards the end is between Reylo only, apart from a bit of making out

Ben’s BB-9E typewriter is silent again. He is staring at the only sentence he has produced in the past half an hour:

_This process is described in a systematic manner by San Tekka et al. (1962), who depict economic ideas as travelling between four ‘social processes’; (1) the formulation of pure economic theory, (2) the enunciation by professional economists of the policy implications of economic theory, (3) the expression of nonprofessional opinion on economic policy, and (4) economic activity itself._

He understands now why the rent for this apartment on Kløvermarksvej is so cheap. In the spring, the noise still used to be there mainly in the evenings and weekends only. But since the summer started, loud music and sounds of partying hippies have been echoing from Christiania almost all day long.

The only possibility to focus on his dissertation has been to wake up early and write as much as possible before the world around wakes up. This morning, he has finished two paragraphs in that time. He is happy with the text, but this pace won’t get him ready by the deadline.

He shudders as he thinks how expensive BB-9E was. His father already complained that there was no point of them wasting money just so that Ben could write about it. His mother of course disagreed, convinced that the cost was irrelevant concerning tools for research. But he wonders what they would both think if they only saw how he is not even typing right now, just staring at the black keys.

As the time window for working has obviously closed, Ben decides to leave the typewriter and go out to handle the errands he would have to do at some point in any case. He turns out of Kløvermarksvej so that he can walk along the seashore until he reaches the busyness of Torvegade.

When he reaches the pharmacy, he notices somebody in the doorway, having an argument with the cashier inside. It is a young woman wearing only a pair of light blue jeans shorts and a single daisy in her hair - no shoes, no shirt, no bra. When Ben gets closer, he can hear some of the words that the cashier is shouting at her:

“Yes, in Christiania you live as you like, but here in the rest of Copenhagen we have some rules!”

He prepares to move past the woman quickly and ignore her as much as possible, especially the way how her breasts move between the gracefully hairy armpits as she uses vivid arm gestures to emphasize her disagreement. But when Ben is in the doorway, she stops him.

“Excuse me? Yes, you! Do you have something I could borrow for a second? A cowl or something I could put on? She won’t let me in like this and I really need to go.”

“No, I don’t.”

He is about to continue his way in when she has an idea:

“Your shirt?”

“But I have to go in, too.”

“Sure she’ll let _you_ go in without one.”

She eyes at the cashier – a middle-aged woman who seems to have momentarily forgotten about the argument as her attention has been drawn into Ben’s ripped arms.

“Please?” she adds with pleading eyes.

Ben does not know why he is agreeing, but his hands grab the collar of his T-shirt, pull it off and give it to the woman in the doorway next to him.

“Thank you thank you thank you, just a minute and you’ll get it back”, she mumbles as she hides her upper body in the black T-shirt that hangs loosely from her shoulders, sleeves reaching her elbows.

They go in and Ben starts collecting his own list of items: sunscreen, razor blades and aspirin. But when he has finished, the checkout is empty because the cashier is away with the woman in his T-shirt. He can hear her loud questioning from the condom shelf:

“Do these natural rubber ones come in different sizes? Some of our men say that they are too loose and some that they are too tight.”

“No. If you want a bit tighter, try this brand. Or this one if you want a looser one.”

“Do these come in natural rubber?”

“Unfortunately no.”

She sighs and settles for taking a couple of packages of each of the three brands. When she disappears behind the vitamin shelf, the cashier hurries to the checkout where Ben is waiting along with a couple of other customers behind him. She blushes and struggles to keep her eyes on his face as he pays and thanks her.

He would be ready to leave but has to wait for getting his shirt back. The woman who is wearing it seems to be aware that he is waiting, as she soon appears in the queue with all her condom packages, a large vial of vitamin pills and a bag of liquorice. When it is her turn to pay, she fills the checkout desk with coins. After careful calculation, the cashier finds out that she is 50 øre short.

“Oh, come on, it’s so little, couldn’t you round it down for me? Besides, it’s me you should thank for bringing _him_ in here _shirtless_. You owe me something for that, don’t you?”

The cashier is flustered but unforgiving. Embarrassed and impatient to have his shirt back, Ben digs into his wallet and places a 50 øre coin on top of the others on the desk. Then he walks out and it takes a moment before she realises to follow, muttering more ‘thank you’s.

Outside, they exchange the T-shirt back on him. When the faintly sweaty fabric encloses him again, it is difficult to not think about it just a while ago falling over her breasts that are now again bare right in front of him, perky and tanned. Sure he is used to half of Christiania dressing up like this on warm summer days, but he never hangs out this close to anyone from there.

“You really saved me, twice”, she says. “I’d offer you a coffee or something, but obviously I ran out of money.”

“It’s ok, really.”

“But I think I do have…" She searches her pockets. "Yes, I have two joints! Do you want one?”

“No, thanks.”

“Have you ever smoked weed?”

“No, and I should get back to my doctoral thesis in any case.”

“Doctoral thesis? In the summer?”

Her eyes round in shock as she lights up her joint. The air between them fills up with the sweet smell that usually hovers as a cloud all around Christiania.

“I need it in print in the beginning of September. I’m defending in October.”

“Cruel. What's it about?”

“Correlations between humans’ social behaviour and economic theories. Though most often those seem not to be correlating.”

“Interesting... So can you make the conclusion that we could ditch economic growth and focus on building wellbeing through communities?”

“My scope is just to analyse, not suggest policies.”

“But what do you think yourself?”

“It’s complex. Sure there are people, even in the UN and as high-level politicians, who openly criticize economic growth, and I see the point of it. Though if we go down that route, we’re going to see a lot of unemployment and weakened social services because of the lost taxes, so I’m not sure if we’re ready for it as humankind.”

“We’re going to demonstrate next week against using war as a leverage for economic growth. Could you write something to our manifesto? Sounds like you would know the right references to cite.”

“No, I can’t. I’m not even getting enough writing done for my thesis.”

“Please?”

“You’re doing those eyes again.”

“What eyes?”

“That made me give you my shirt. But let me tell you, that doesn’t always work.”

“Why not?”

“Because now I’ve really decided. I need to finish the writing and prepare for the defence.”

“Ok, fine. It was nice to meet you, in any case. And thank you again. My name is Rey.”

“Nice meeting you, Rey. I’m Ben.”

They shake hands and turn to leave but notice that they turn to the same direction.

“Do you live there?”

Rey gestures towards Christiania that they are walking towards.

“Behind Christiania, on Kløvermarksvej. Has not been the best place to work this summer. How do you pull off partying almost around the clock?”

Rey shrugs.

“The summer won't last forever.”

She is pleasantly high when she dumps the skeleton of her joint and sighs obliviously. They walk in silence along Torvegade until the seashore. Before Rey turns and leaves Ben to continue to the other side, she says:

“Look, if you can’t write this afternoon but want to use the time on something good, we’ll be on the Mælkebøtten beach. Maybe see you there?”

Her eyes look so excited that Ben has to say:

“Maybe.”  
  


* * *

  
At home, Ben scrambles together one more paragraph about the social diffusion of economic theories. He has the basic mechanism of it described and should move on to at least one example.

The brawl from outside pull his mind back to Rey and her demonstration against war as a leverage for economic growth. It is not long ago that growth-critical journal articles started appearing. When he started his doctoral studies, there were practically none. Still, those are a minority, and even fewer make the connection between economic growth and warfare. But something has made those concepts penetrate into social pockets with a force that causes people to take actions like demonstrations.

So far, he has not cited any growth-critical articles in the whole text, afraid of being interpreted as biased. But for the next couple of hours, he does not hold back. The tapping of his typewriter almost covers the outside noises as he fills a page with analysis about the rise and entanglement of the peace and growth-critical movements. He is content when he pulls out the paper and starts reading:

_An example of social forces changing economic views can be seen in the interaction of the global peace movement and the academic discourse on the necessity of economic growth. Even though growth has been seen as an essential provider of employment and wellbeing (Snoke et al. 1963) as well as a driver for poverty eradication in the global south (Snoke & Ren 1964), more recent literature has presented critics against it._

_Organa et al. (1966) report evidence for how the Vietnam war has been systematically used as a vehicle for GDP growth in the US. Moreover, several civil wars in Africa have been intentionally prolonged by European colonial powers in order to drive their economic growth through weapon sales and reconstruction projects (Organa & Calrissian 1967). While the growth-critical approach remains debated in literature, socially it has already established a followong…_

He corrects the typo with correction fluid and pen, continues reading until the end of the page and puts it down on the table, on top of the slowly growing pile. Looking out at the afternoon sun, he thinks again, though, takes the page back and types another copy. He types the references of this section on the other side of the paper and folds it into the pocket of his shorts.  
  


* * *

  
“Ben!” Rey shouts and waves her hand with excitement when she sees him across the beach.

When he reaches her, she spontaneously hugs him by his waist. Ben hesitates a moment before he responds by folding his arms around her. The skin in her back is soft and warm to touch and she smells like a blend of weed and flowers. She is now wearing nothing but two garlands of daisies, one around her head and one around her hips.

When she lets go of him, she starts introducing him to the other people sitting on towels on the sand, nobody wearing anything more than her, not everyone even the flowers.

“This is Poe, and this is Finn, and Rose, and Jannah, and Snap, and Jessika, and Nix.”

The names and faces pass quickly and Ben tries his best to catch at least some.

“So, shall we go swimming?” Rey suggests when done with introductions.

“Actually, I just came to drop by to say thank you.” Ben hands her the folded page from his pocket. “I wrote a full page about what you said. I thought it might be useful for you, too.”

“About economic growth and war? For the demonstration?”

Rey opens the paper to find out that she understood right.

“See, this is exactly what we need for the manifesto.” Rey hands the page to Poe.

He brushes his long dark wavy hair back with his hand and starts reading, absent-mindedly rolling a strand of his beard around his finger, nodding with increasing frequency towards the end.

“That’s right. How can we thank you, Ben?” He folds the paper into a fringed linen bag.

“It’s nothing, really. I was writing it for my doctoral thesis anyway. Like I said, I should thank you. I had trouble progressing before I heard about your demonstration topic.”

“In that case, you’re welcome any time. We live right there.” Poe points towards the direction of the heart of Christiania. “In an orange and white house, a mural with abstract round shapes, impossible to miss. Just come to write there any time you need help.”

Ben thanks politely, though the thought of trying to write in the middle of Christiania, when it is so difficult even outside of it, makes him internally laugh.

“Now swimming?” Rey suggests again.

Ben tries to ignore her body and the thought about how it will soon be wet with sea water, her hair gluing to her neck and chest and sending trickles down all over her. He has not brought his swimming shorts and certainly does not feel as comfortable without them as all of these people. He has not even put sunscreen anywhere else but the exposed parts of his arms, legs, face and neck.

So he shakes his head and says that he needs to get going. Rey hugs and thanks him again before he walks away, shoes now so full of sand that he decides to take them off and walk across the beach barefoot.  
  


* * *

  
During the following days, his writing is back to its normal snail pace. When staring out of the window and trying to gather his thoughts, he finds himself more and more often considering the possibility that things might get easier if talking with Rey again.

First he tries to brush it away as a ridiculous idea. If he is in trouble, he should talk to his supervising professor and not to a random hippie from the street. But when another week has passed and he has only finished two pages of mediocre text, he does not even make a conscious decision before he grabs a notebook and pen and heads to Christiania.

Just like Poe said, the orange and white house decorated with a mural with round shapes is impossible to miss. He knocks on the door and sees a head appear in the closest window. He tries to flex his memory and thinks that it is Finn.

“Hi, Ben, come in!”

When he tries the handle, he notices that the door is open. He leaves his shoes by the entrance and proceeds to the living room where he sees the first people. Now that they have met once, everyone swarms to hug him. He does not see Rey, but before he has time to ask about her, somebody already shouts through the staircase:

“Rey, Ben is here!”

Within seconds, she rushes down the stairs with a wide smile.

“I’ve missed you”, she says when she dives into a hug.

He would not be ready to admit the same, but he does hold her a bit longer than the others.

“How’s your thesis?” she asks as they sit down amidst a collection of giant pillows that circulate the living room.

“It’s going bad, actually. That’s why I wanted to see you. I should write next about the actors in social constructs who influence change in economic activity, but it’s clumsy so far. I don’t get anything good down. Could we just…talk about it for a while?”

Rey is excited about the topic. She listens patiently as Ben summarizes what he has read and what conclusions he is considering. She interferes with her own opinions, sometimes similar as his, sometimes critical, sometimes new ideas he had not even considered. Poe throws in comments once in a while, too. Ben keeps taking notes and, after about an hour, he has enough material for a whole section.

At home, he copies and elaborates on his notes with BB-9E until late evening. The next day, he realizes that he will save a lot of time by just packing a few books in his bag and BB-9E in its case and going to the orange and white house to write for the whole day.

The sounds of partying and smell of weed keep circulating him whenever he writes in Christiania, but surprisingly, those are exactly the days that get him finished by the beginning of September. When he takes the folder full of finalised pages to the printhouse, a giant weight falls off his shoulders.


	2. Chapter 2

The living room looks emptier now that Ben has packed up and taken away his shiny black typewriter and books. Rey sits on the pillow where he always used to sit, finishing up her evening tea, eyes gazing absent-mindedly to the distance. Finn walks in and sits down next to her with his arm around her shoulders.

He tries to ask her about how she is doing, and she gives short, neutral answers that she is not really sure about herself. She much rather leans her head against his in silence. That is how they stay, until Finn turns his head and kisses her. She kisses him back for a while, but when he slides his hand down her side, pulls her closer and tries to deepen the kiss, she turns her head away.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I mean, of course it’s your choice, but I’ve gathered from talking with others that you haven’t slept with anyone almost the whole summer. Obviously, if you really don’t want, it’s fine. I just want to know if everything is ok with you.”

“Yes, everything is ok. I just need to… do it myself for now.”

Rey is thankful that Finn leaves his inquiries at that. She does not feel like elaborating on how the only thing that has been turning her on recently is her own hand and the image of Ben’s giant naked figure on her.

Since they formed their commune a few years ago, she has not felt the need for anybody from outside like this before. They all know each others’ bodies inside out, which guarantees that at home, almost any time she wants, she can have familiar and pleasant sex that goes predictably exactly as she likes it. The rest of their life together is built upon similar closeness. They cuddle with each other at ease, share their feelings as they show up and rarely wear shirts in the summer, not always even pants at home.

Ben is nothing like that. He is a mystery. Just the mere size of his body and the smoothness of his chin are infinitely intriguing. Rey has never kissed a man without a beard before and she has lost hours of sleep wondering how it might feel like. Something like kissing a woman? Or something different?

And is his skin everywhere like on his face – spotted carelessly with moles and so pale even after a record-breaking sunny summer like this one? He seems to use every opportunity, when it is not too hot, to wear more clothing. Rey still has not seen any more of him than that day in the pharmacy - and that is wildly enticing. Also, even though he can talk passionately about economics and sociology for hours, it is like Rey has to fish out any bits about himself or his own feelings.

Touching Ben is completely different, too. Hugs have more or less normalised between them when they meet or part, but whenever she touches him unexpectedly, he tenses up just like it was not a mere careless gesture that means nothing, but something… special. That right away makes it mean something for her, too. She had no idea her heartbeat could quicken just from holding his shoulder when leaning in to read his text from the typewriter. Thinking about it now makes her hurry when kissing Finn’s cheek at the blurred borderline of his beard, wishing him good night, taking her empty cup to the kitchen and disappearing into her bedroom.  
  


* * *

  
Rey does not see Ben during the weeks when he is waiting for the book from the print and busy preparing for the defence. And as their commune is running out of cash after a lazy summer, she is also getting busier herself, joining the others to work on their business of fixing bikes in their garage.

Eventually, on a chilly and dark evening, when October has already started, they are all arriving back home from a party and find a book on their doorstep. The covers are black, only featuring golden text:

_Effect of economic theory on social constructs_

_by_

_Ben Solo_

_A dissertation submitted for the degree of  
Doctor of Philosophy in Economics_

_Copenhagen School of Economics and Business_

_October 1967_

When Poe opens the front cover to browse it, out falls an invitation card to the defence and post-doctoral dinner.  
  


* * *

  
They have some trouble finding appropriate clothes for everyone, but manage to scrape together enough collar shirts, long linen pants and long flower dresses to make them look more or less fitting in the auditorium where they wait for Ben to arrive with his opponent and professor. Except that their row of seats stands out as the most colourful one, and a faint smell of weed still hovers around it, even though none of them has smoked the same morning.

This is going to be the first time Rey sees Ben in weeks, and she is almost worried that she has spoiled him by imagining him too much. She is not sure anymore if the reality will live up to her imagination. But when he eventually walks in, the opposite happens. How is it that the more complex clothing he wears, the more attractive he looks to her? Now she can spot three layers: shirt, waistcoat and tailcoat, and they are all pulling her attention away from his presentation and to imagining how exactly she would undo every element of this complicated outfit.

But she does not mind, as he is talking about the same things they have already gone through in more detail in their living room. So she lets his pleasantly deep voice pass in through one ear and out of the other, until he finishes by reading from his notes to address the opponent:

”I ask you, honoured professor San Tekka, appointed as opponent by Copenhagen School of Economics and Business, to present the observations that you consider appropriate for this dissertation.”

Their ensuing discussion draws Rey’s attention back. Professor San Tekka is lively, charismatic and openly growth-critical. He clearly holds somewhat back at first, taking his time to ask Ben about the fundamental concepts and methodologies. But towards the end, he starts to increasingly bring up the topics that Rey and Poe have been encouraging Ben to write about. Poe nudges Rey’s arm every time his favourite points are mentioned and gives cheering hand gestures to Ben whenever he thinks he gives a great answer.

In the end, Ben passes with overflowing praise by the opponent and the audience lines up to congratulate him. After a long array of professors and co-workers who shake his hand one by one, a late-middle-aged couple reach him and hug him long between them. Rey realises they must be his parents, even though they belong to the long list of personal topics that he has never spoken much about. She gets instantly curious, but right then their own turn comes, and they drown Ben inside a giant cloud of a group hug.

At the dinner, it turns out that Ben’s mother knows his opponent and they plunge quickly into a vivid conversation about alternatives for economic growth. Overhearing them, Poe boldly ignores the sitting order and joins them by stealing Ben’s father’s chair when he is outside for a smoke. He returns to find the only available seat between Finn and Rey, who taps it with her encouraging hand.

“Hello, I’m Rey.” She holds out her hand as he sits down. “And you must be…”

“Han Solo.” He shakes her hand and breaks into a smile. “Thanks for saving me. They can talk so endlessly about the economy. I don’t get the fuzz about it. When you just make money, you don’t have to worry about the theories for what happens to it globally. Live free, don’t join. That’s what I've always told Ben. But he’s more of his mother’s son. And they’re smarter than me, obviously. I guess, when you’re smart enough, there’s nothing to do but to show it off. And now I maybe said too much. Don’t tell me you have a PhD, too.”

“No, never. I fix bikes.”

“Really? You should visit my bike shop sometime. We have the biggest collection of spare parts in whole Copenhagen.”

“Oh, you should have told me yesterday. I would have needed a single 3-inch gear tooth for one customer. I ended up bypassing the whole gear.”

Han’s jaw drops and he hangs on every word as she describes it to him. They move on to different memories of seedy patchings of difficult bikes, and the rest of the evening passes quickly.

When midnight approaches and the restaurant is about to close, Ben starts saying goodbye to the guests one by one. He looks relieved and happy now, hugging many of his co-workers with whom he only shook hands in the afternoon.

Rey is again among the last ones in line. When she reaches him, she hugs him with her arms around his neck, pulling him down in a way that she likes to do, to feel the warmth of the side of his head against hers.

“Congratulations, Dr. Ben, and thank you, I had fun.”

“Thanks. I’m, errr, glad you enjoyed.”

She keeps her hands on his shoulders as they back their heads away and he looks at her with a shy kind of smile. They have not been this close since Ben finished his writing. And she cannot take it for long before she grabs the silk lapels of his tailcoat in her fists and kisses him.

It is definitely not like kissing a woman. But it is also nothing like kissing any other man. It is just like… kissing Ben, and it is unique.

He tenses up just like he always does at sudden touch. But soon enough, he melts into the kiss and lets his hands travel to her back. Rey feels her own hunger mirrored in the way how he explores her and keeps her close. But she also feels that he is unfamiliar with this and, for sure, will not make the kind of move she wants. So she herself stops to ask:

“Can I go home with you?”

He takes a breath through his mouth and just stares back at her for a moment. He has gone speechless but he nods.

Rey waits by the cloakroom for him to finish with the few remaining guests. Her friends automatically wish her good night and tell her to have fun – either because they just heard her or because, out of some bizarre instinct, they assume that she is not coming home with them. The worried looks that especially Finn has been casting at her throughout the past months are gone, and the smirks and encouraging punches on her shoulder make her head spin even faster.

They are a short walking distance away from Ben’s apartment on Kløvermarksvej, but it takes almost half an hour to cover it when slowing down to kiss every few steps.

Once inside, Rey wonders how Ben can fit in an apartment of this size. It is not much bigger than her own bedroom. There is only one table, with BB-9E pushed to the side of it. That must be where he both eats and works. One of the tall closets must contain the kitchen. The bathroom consists of three layers: toilet, sink partly on top of it and shower above them both. There is no bedroom – just a narrow bed by the wall of the only room.

Sure Rey knows that this is a normal size for a studio apartment in Copenhagen, but she has got spoiled when sharing a home with so many people that they can afford a spacious living room and kitchen, even bathroom with a tub. She has other things to think about now, though. With one movement of her arms, she pulls the long, sunflower-decorated dress over her head, leaving her completely naked.

“Jesus, Rey, were you in my defence without underwear?” he blurts out his first thought.

“Uh-huh.”

“So you planned this all along?”

“Maybe.” She grins and grabs his lapels again to pull off his tailcoat.

“This is going to take longer”, he unnecessarily reminds her.

“I’m up for the challenge.”

And she takes her time figuring out the way of undoing every piece.

Cufflinks.

Bowtie.

Sleeve garter.

The other sleeve garter.

Waistcoat.

Suspenders.

Shirt.

Trousers.

Socks with their garters.

Underwear.

Finally, they are an island in the middle of a sea of discarded clothing layers. Rey presses herself against as much of his skin as she can cover. He lifts her up and lays her on the bed. The only way to fit himself next to her is to lay on his side. He goes on drinking her kisses and lets his hand travel slowly along her skin.

“Here.”

Rey tucks his hand down and guides his finger on the top left side of her clit, her favourite spot of her own body. Ben presses it a few times tentatively, which makes her close her eyes and sigh with delight. But he pulls his hand back up and faces her disappointed gaze.

“Ok, I’ll remember that. But let me study you first. Everything about you is so perfect.”

And inch by inch, his hands and mouth explore all of her skin, just like he is about to start another PhD just on her. Wherever he finds her sensitive, he slows down until she melts into a mess of moans and shudders.

Rey has been in this body for more than twenty years but never realised its capacity to feel this much. She had no idea that so much pleasure was hidden in the insides of her elbows, under her ears, the backs of her thighs, the spot between her collarbones, the spaces between her big and second toes. But this over-analytical man is persistently uncovering it through the soft touch of his fingertips, gentle blows of air from his mouth, brush of the tips of his hair and exploratory spirals with his tongue.

She is blown away by how many little orgasms she is capable of - and how intense one, once he finally arrives to her favourite spot.

“Oh God, you look so beautiful”, Ben gasps against her neck. “I want you so much right now. But I understand if you…”

Rey is pleasantly tired, but opening her eyes to look at him and feeling his erection agains her thigh remind her what she came here for. She climbs over him, finds her bag on the floor and opens the pocket containing her condom selection. She eyes longingly at the natural rubber ones, but measuring him with her eyes, she opts for the synthetic one with the looser fit.

She takes her time rolling it on him, first just savouring long strokes and kisses down his shaft. But once she is done and presses her labia around it, she loses her patience. She drowns his mouth in kisses, rolls on her back, pulls him over her and slides him inside her. He takes the hint and thrusts his hips down to hers as she wraps both her legs and arms around him to crush him down harder. They climb up to one more orgasm and then, all of Ben’s delicious weight collapses on her.

Ben wakes up in the tiny space, in the most blessed way that he can think of. The first sensation he becomes conscious of is the smell of Rey’s hair. The whole length of her body is pressed right against his. He can feel her breathing steadily expanding and contracting her back against his chest. And every once in a while, her buttocks subtly twitch around his mild erection.

He folds his top leg to caress her nimbly hairy leg with his foot. His top hand he scoops under her lower breast and strokes its inner edge with his thumb. Rey wakes up halfway, and he steadies all his movements and just holds her, encouraging her to still sleep a little while, to have some more time for himself to savour how the biggest imaginable treasure has fallen from the stars so miraculously in his arms.


End file.
